At the Intersection of Capitalism and Self-Indulgence…to Buy Some Jordan 3s

I bought a pair of Jordan Retro 3s over the weekend. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be worth mentioning but the experience was so disorienting, I thought writing about the journey might make it sound less stupid. I was wrong.

I found out the Cement 3s were releasing in February and was mostly unmoved. The shoes are dope but I didn’t think I’d have the money for them. In 2017, there were several other pairs of Jordans I coveted and made plans to purchase. Then, life started lifin’. I didn’t want to jinx myself this time around.

When I made the decision to buy Cements, I went through the same process I always go through when making big purchases: 1) can I afford it? 2) if there’s an emergency after I make the purchase will I regret spending the money? 3) will I need to buy something else to enjoy it?

The decision-making process might sound ridiculous but it’s a side effect of growing up poor. Also, I’ve been broke a lot longer than I’ve had a job. I have no desire to return to said “brokeness,” much less speeding up that process over a pair of sneakers.

The Cement 3s passed the test. They were $200, all of my bills were paid for the month, and they fit in with my current wardrobe.

Next, I had to figure out where I was going to buy them. There was an opportunity to purchase the shoes from the SNKRS app, but my need for immediate gratification means I had no interest in waiting another week to wear them after purchase.

I called Foot Locker on February 12th. Jordan releases tend to be handled differently than other sneakers, so I wanted information about the process.

An employee told me the shoes would be on sale as a “first come, first serve” basis. The store would open at nine, two people at a time would be allowed in the store, and that’s how it would go until the shoes sold out. I made plans to buy the sneakers from Foot Locker.

I always make it a point to call a retail store twice. As a former retail worker, I understand the information an employee gives is not always accurate, therefore, it’s a good practice double check that information. So, I called the Foot Locker that Friday to verify what the other employee said on Monday.

And thank God that I did.

The young man confirmed the “first come, first serve” basis for the sneakers, but informed me I’d need to RSVP through the Foot Locker app for a ticket. The ticket would be my way of “standing in line” to guarantee my sneakers. I did as he instructed…and discovered all the RSVPs were gone.

At that moment, someone recommended trying a brick and mortar store, Hibbet Sports. A quick Google search showed multiple stores in the area. Two phone calls later, I found a store doing an 8 a.m release. That worked in my favor. If I couldn’t get them at 8 a.m., I’d buy them at 10 a.m. from the SNKRS app.

On Friday night, I had dreams of owning the Cement 3s. Around 2:30 a.m., I woke up to use the bathroom, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. Around 3 a.m., I thought “well…I could keep laying here or I could go to the store and wait for it to open.”

For a moment, the idea of waiting in front of the store for a pair of sneakers, seemed a ludicrous proposition. But, I had another thought.

“You might be a loser for waiting in front of the store, but you’d be a loser with some Cement 3s.”

I left my house at 4:15.

So, let’s talk about this trip.

For starters, my city was under a fog warning. This wasn’t “regular” fog. It was thick. Blinding. The kind of fog one sees in horror movies right before the lone Black character dies a horribly violent death. Fog so thick if it was a woman, it’d make everyone uncomfortable. It necessitated driving well below the speed limit lest I crash into some unsuspecting object, or person.

Once I arrived at Hibbet, I took in my surroundings. Hibbet is a standalone store in a shopping plaza. This plaza contained the following: a check cashing store, CitiTrends, TWO Rainbow stores, a liquor store, and a gas station. There was also a crackhead riding a bicycle.

To no one in particular, and certainly not to the crackhead, I asked, “yo…am I in the hood?”

(No judgment on the crackhead, by the way. He was doing what crackheads do. I was the one waiting in front of a store at 5 a.m. for pair of Jordans. I, was the one out of place.)

I killed time by smoking, listening to the new Nipsey Hussle album (which is fire), and watching a Dave Chappelle comedy special. I was joined by two more people at 6 a.m. and five more around 7:15.

One of the store employees arrived at 7:30 and it was time for the final countdown. At various points of my wait, I questioned my sanity. In thinking of all I’d gone through to spend $200 for a pair of sneakers I was, for a brief moment, perturbed by my behavior.

Nike’s capitalism was on full display. They created the market for the shoe to be a hot commodity: the limited release, the hype of All-Star weekend, the rarity of the colorway itself. The reseller market, a market where people buy shoes and sell them at inflated prices, makes it tough to buy sneakers at retail.

Hypebeasts, a derogatory term in sneakerhead culture for people who only buy shoes because they’re popular to other people, increase this difficultly as well. Hypebeasts don’t really want a shoe inasmuch as they want the social currency it might afford. The shoes are status symbols, which is fine, but annoying when they might be a reason someone who really “cares” about the shoes can’t get them.

Finally, there are bots. A bot is an artificial intelligence used to purchase shoes on sneaker websites. It’s also a tool resellers use to keep their business practice of buying and reselling shoes as a viable means of income. Bots are nearly impossible to beat when it comes to buying shoes online. So, it’s either purchase your own bot or take your chances via online or brick and mortar.

In effect, trying to buy these Jordans became a microcosm of some of the worst aspects of living in a capitalist society. I understood all of this, yet it didn’t matter.

I just wanted the fucking sneakers.

About ten minutes before 8 a.m., the Hibbet employee came out of the store with little white pieces of paper in his hands. He asked people for their shoe sizes and when they answered, he gave them a piece of paper with that number on it.

Two things dawned on me. One, he only had a limited number of shoes. Two, the entire store only had ONE pair of sneakers, per size.

Being that I was the first in line, there was no cause for concern. I asked for a pair of size 12s, went inside the store, and completed the transaction. A man, who was fourth in line, asked for a size 11.5. The employee responded he’d given that size to another customer.

The man shook his head with a sigh of resignation and dejectedly walked back to his car. The game of buying sneakers is a cold one.

But, I got my J’s though.